


The One Where Brian Goes to a Party

by LaVieEnRose



Series: The One Where Justin Loses His Hearing [20]
Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Chronic Illness, Deaf Character, Domestic Fluff, F/F, Fluff, M/M, POV Outsider
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-24
Updated: 2018-07-24
Packaged: 2019-06-15 11:07:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15411558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaVieEnRose/pseuds/LaVieEnRose
Summary: “You expect too much from him,” she said.“I expect nothing at all from him! That's my point. I'm not waiting around on tenterhooks to see what Brian does next. He can do whatever. He's not my trained seal, so I'm not going to feed him fish.”





	The One Where Brian Goes to a Party

The doorbell rang at six-fifty—miraculously, only twenty minutes late—the night before the party. “Gus, your dad is here!” I called, tripping over J.R.'s dollhouse on my way to the door. That girl is a lawsuit waiting to happen. 

Gus ran ahead of me, opened the door, and immediately narrowed his eyes at Brian. “Where's Justin?”

“Well, hey, champ,” Brian said. “Just me tonight.”

Gus groaned and stomped towards the kitchen.

“Uh...good to see you too,” Brian said.

“He's been practicing his signing,” I explained. “He wanted to show off.”

“You can show it off to me!” Brian said, but Gus just muttered to himself on his way down the hall. “What the fuck's with him?” Brian said.

“I don't know, he's eight, he's an asshole.” I closed the door. “Where is Justin?”

“Laid up, and not in a fun way. Migraine.”

“Aw, that's too bad. The one perk to seeing you.”

He gave me a smarmy smile. “I've missed us. Where's your better half?”

“Setting the—” 

“Brian!” Lindsay bounded out from the kitchen and wrapped her arms around Brian's neck with some sort of squeal. I kicked some toys out of the way while Brian closed his eyes and put a hand on the back of her head. 

“Your kid's an asshole,” he said.

She let go of him. “I know. I was hoping seeing you would cheer him up.”

“It seems seeing Justin might have.” 

“Yeah, where is Justin?”

“Couldn't make it. But he sends his regrets and told me to make sure to pick up a bottle of wine on my way over, which I definitely did not.”

She smacked his arm lightly. “We have wine. Come sit. You know you didn't have to get a hotel!” She called over her shoulder. “You could have stayed here!”

Brian made a face like _yikes_ but managed to keep his voice neutral. “Ah, yeah, I know, but it would have been a whole thing with Justin's mother about why we were staying with you and not with her...better to just sidestep the whole thing.”

“Nice save,” I said to him.

He stuck out his tongue.

“Are you seeing her while you're here?” Lindsay asked.

Brian nodded and sat down at the table next to Gus. “Lunch with her tomorrow before the party.” He nudged Gus. “Want to come with?”

“Come where?” he said.

“To lunch with Grandma Jen,” Lindsay said, setting a platter of roast beef on the table.

Brian looked at her imploringly. “ _Grandma Jen?_ This is happening?”

I said, “What the fuck's he supposed to call her, Mrs. Taylor?”

“That's what I call her,” Brian said. 

“She asked him to call her Grandma,” Lindsay said. “I think it's sweet. She says it's the closest she's going to come to a grandchild so she better make the most of it.”

“I don't know,” Brian said. “Molly's pretty, uh, provocative.”

“Grandma Jen buys me the best shit,” Gus said.

“Gus, language!” Lindsay called from the kitchen.

“Mom literally just said fuck,” he said.

“Mom's old,” Brian stage-whispered to him. “She gets to do things while she still has time.”

“I can't go tomorrow,” Gus said. “They're holding me hostage and making me clean for the dumb party.”

“You always love the anniversary parties!” Lindsay said.

“I want to go to Anna's.”

“You have been to Anna's three times this week,” I said. “You'll survive a night at home with your moms.”

“Two nights,” he said. “Tonight and tomorrow. Two nights.”

“And here I thought you'd be looking forward to spending time with me,” Brian said.

“Why can't I spend time with you in New York?”

“Ask the wardens,” Brian said.

Lindsay took her seat at the table. “When you're a little older, honey.”

“They're no fun,” Gus said to him. His eyes lit up. “Fun zero!”

Brian grinned and reached for his wine. “Very good.”

“What?” Lindsay said.

“It's a sign language thing, Mama,” Gus said. “You wouldn't understand it.”

Lindsay put her hand on her chest. “Hey, we've been practicing too!” 

Gus rolled his eyes. “Barely.”

Brian cleared his throat and served himself some meat. “So where's the shrimp?”

“At Michael and Ben's,” I said. “Have you seen them yet?”

Brian shook his head. “We just got in a few hours ago and Justin was already feeling shitty on the drive.”

“How's he been?” I asked.

“Uh, up and down, healthwise.”

“He really freaked out Michael,” Lindz said. “He was back here telling everyone how sick he was when you were in Australia.”

“Michael's such a drama queen. He was totally fine. He took a few days off work and was good as new.”

“Oh, so you didn't run home from Australia in the middle of your conference?” Lindsay said.

Brian shrugged and took a sip of his wine. Lindsay's like a dog with a bone about this shit. She's always trying to get Brian to make some big confession of his feelings for Justin, and so he acts extra nonchalant because he probably knows she's fishing, and then she gets even more desperate. I will never understand the dance these two do, or, more importantly, fucking _why._

“How's his job going, anyway?” I asked.

“He loves it. And his boss gave him this enormous canvas so he's been working on that for the past month.”

“Like to restore?” Lindsay said.

“No no, like a blank canvas, to do whatever he wants. He has pictures, he'll show you tomorrow. It's...tremendous.”

The conversation drifted over to what Gus was doing in school, and what his camp plans were for the summer, and how if his report card was good when it came in next week maybe, maybe he could go up to New York for a few days before school started up in the fall. He left to go play the new video game _Grandma Jen_ got him last week, and we offered Brian coffee, but he shook his head. “I should get back.”

Lindsay said, “Oh, that's right, let me pack up some leftovers for him.”

“I don't know if he'll eat.”

“They're just going to sit around here,” Lindsay said, which was ridiculous, since Gus eats like a football player, but obviously I had no objections to sending dinner back with Justin. Brian and I waited awkwardly in the dining room while Lindsay filled Tupperware in the kitchen.

“So, how many years is this?” he asked me.

“Fourteen.”

“Holy shit.”

“Tell me about it. What'd you do for your anniversary?” I teased.

“We went to the ballet,” he said lightly, and I scoffed. Sarcastic asshole. He grinned at me and stuck his tongue in his cheek.

Lindsay came and handed him two things of Tupperware and kissed him on the cheek. “Tell Justin we hope he feels better.”

“Will do. Bye, Gus,” he called into the living room, and rolled his eyes when Gus ignored him. “Oh,” he said, his hand on the doorknob. “By the way, we have an interpreter coming to the party tomorrow.”

Lindsay frowned. “He's never brought one to family stuff before.”

“And he's always lost.”

“Everyone's really been working hard...” Lindsay said.

Brian shrugged. “Now they can all relax.”

Lindsay brought that up again that night, after the kids were in bed. “Do you think they're...trying to tell us something?” she asked me while she brushed her hair.

I lounged on the bed. “If they are, good thing they're bringing an interpreter.”

“I'm serious,” she said. “It feels like some sort of...implication. Like they're saying we haven't been working hard enough for Justin to be able to understand us.”

“I don't think that's an implication. I think Brian literally said that.”

She sat down on the foot of the bed. “There are always layers to things Brian says,” she said, and I resisted the urge to groan and flop dramatically backwards. She crawled up on the bed and lay next to me. “It was sweet, huh? Him talking about Justin's art like that. He sounded proud.”

“Sure.”

“You don't think that's remarkable?”

“Remarkable? No, I don't think it's remarkable. I talk about your art like that to anyone who will listen. A lot more strongly than that, actually.”

“But this is Brian.”

“Yeah, I know it's Brian,” I said. “And I know we regularly applaud Brian for doing the bare minimum in a relationship. Now he's acting like a pretty averagely supportive partner. Only took him nine years, but hey.”

Lindsay sighed. “Mel...”

“Look, it's nice,” I said. “And I'm happy for Justin that Brian's being nice to him. But I'm not going to stand up and applaud that Brian's finally doing the same shit everyone else figured out years ago.” 

“You expect too much from him,” she said.

“I expect nothing at all from him! That's my point. I'm not waiting around on tenterhooks to see what Brian does next. He can do whatever. He's not my trained seal, so I'm not going to feed him fish.”

Lindsay sat up and kissed me. “You're impossible,” she said, and she crawled her hand up underneath my shirt and Brian and Justin were forgotten.

**

We set the yard up beautifully for the party, with catered food from the bistro by the river and waiters with pass hors d'oeuvres. Never say Lindsay doesn't know how to pull together an event. I was re-introducing Gus to our friends that he only sees once a year and promptly forgets when Michael and Ben showed up with Jenny Rebecca, and, right on their heels, Brian and Justin and an older man who I presumed was their interpreter. Gus ran over and hugged Justin immediately, and Brain threw up his hands and signed something that looked to me like **Why do I bother,** and Gus laughed and hugged him too. 

Justin pinched J.R.'s cheeks and kissed her, and then Ben and Michael, and finally turned to me with that dazzling smile. I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him. **You look beautiful,** he said. **Congratulations.**

**It's so good to see you, sweetheart.**

**I'm sorry I missed dinner last night.**

**Not a problem at all. You're feeling better?**

**Good as new.**

“Justin!” Lindsay appeared and swept him into a hug. “How was your trip? Did Brian give you the leftovers?” I was surprised she didn't at least try to sign to him, but I guess that's what the interpreter's for.

Justin watched the interpreter and then smiled. “He did, thank you,” the interpreter said for him. “The potatoes were amazing. I'll need to get the recipe from you.”

Brian came over and signed something subtly to Justin, kissing him above his ear, and Justin gave him a look and smacked his hands away.

“Thank God you two have a new language to be vulgar in,” I said. “However did you survive?”

Brian signed, and the interpreter said, “Melanie, I'm surprised with you. There are children around.” Brian tapped Justin on the shoulder and signed, **Ben's over there,** and pointed.

Justin signed something back I didn't get, and the interpreter didn't translate it for us, I guess since it was for Brian and he knew he understood. I can't say I'm well-versed in how these things work. I've really only seen interpreters in court rooms a few times and when Justin took us to a play at PIFA last year.

 **Fine,** Brian said. **But playing hard to get doesn't suit you, Sunshine.** He kissed Justin's nose and left to stalk Marco, one of my paralegals. Not gay, but possibly able to be convinced. 

I got myself a glass of wine and found Gus a change of pants when he got grass stains on himself and caught up later with Lindsay and Brian underneath the oak tree. He was pushing Jenny Rebecca on the swing and looking over at one of the picnic table, where Justin, Ben, and the interpreter were talking intently. Lindsay was leaning against the tree and watching Brian in that...way of hers. 

I cleaned chocolate from around J.R.'s chin and said, “That looks cozy,” with a nod towards Justin and Ben.

Brian said, “Yeah, Justin's been looking forward to talking to him.”

“I didn't know they were close,” Lindsay said.

“They're not, really. But.” Brian shrugged a little. “Justin has some Deaf friends. Now he needs some chronic illness friends.”

What's funny is, if I were Lindsay, that's the kind of thing that would give me feelings about Brian being a sweet and supportive partner. That's where I'd be swooning. But that's not how Lindsay reacted at all. She kind of looked away quickly and made some excuse about the crudites and she was off.

Brian shrugged and gave J.R. a push. “Some people are very uncomfortable with illness,” he said neutrally, but there was a kind of weight to it, and in the way he was looking at me.

“Not you?”

Brian shook his head and pushed her. “Nah, not at this point. But that still doesn't mean I'm gonna really get it. I reminded Justin Ben existed and he got all excited, so...”

“That's why you brought the interpreter,” I said. “So Justin could talk to him.”

“Not the only reason. You guys are truly awful signers.”

“How about Gus?”

Brian laughed. “Awful.”

“He taught everyone the alphabet at show and tell last week,” I said. “He said everyone thought it was the coolest thing.”

“That's cute,” Brain said dryly. “Culture for show and tell.”

I tilted my head to the side. “That's exactly what I said.”

Brian laughed. “Fuck, that's scary.”

“Isn't it?” I sipped my drink. “Lindsay thought I was being a stick in the mud.”

“You probably were.” He shot me a big fake grin. “Welcome to the club.” He held out his own drink, and fuck it, I toasted him.

People started to trickle out around six. Some of the neighborhood kids had wandered over to play with Gus, so he was finally happy. Justin and Michael were hashing something out about Rage through the interpreter, both of them looking somehow simultaneously frustrated and delighted. Emmett and Ted were curled up asleep in front of a football games where their husbands watched eagerly, J.R. was down for a nap, and Debbie was already cleaning up, despite our best efforts to stop her. I met Lindsay in the kitchen where she was scraping plates into the sink.

“Another success,” I said, and she kissed me and smiled at me. It slipped, though, after she looked around the kitchen to make sure we were alone.

“Did you hear Justin's voice?” she said to me quietly.

“No? I don't think I heard him talk at all.”

“He sounds different,” she said.

“What do you mean, different?”

She shot me a look and rinsed a plate. “Don't make me say it.”

“Ah.”

“It's so sad,” Lindsay said. “And now he's, what, bonding with Ben?”

“Brian seemed like it was a good thing.”

“Brian's being brave,” Lindsay said.

“Ah, yes, the conquering hero,” Brian's voice said from behind us, and we both jumped. “Aren't I always brave? What'd I do this time?”

Lindsay and I looked at each other. 

“C'mon, ladies.” Brian leaned against the sink and ate food off of other people's abandoned plates, because I guess the calories don't count that way. “Spill. I just got a fantastic blow job from that straight friend of yours, by the way.” 

“Marco?” I said.

“Marco,” he confirmed, rolling the R.

“We just think what you and Justin are going through must...be hard,” Lindsay said.

Brian crunched a carrot. “We're not going through anything.”

“The seizures and everything...”

“He's been having seizures since he was eighteen,” Brian said. “So they're a little worse now. Things tend to get worse when you get older. Like Melanie's tits.”

“I'm so glad you're in my house,” I said. Lindsay punched him in the arm and he pouted and rubbed the spot. 

“I just...I hope you two are still able to...be you,” Lindsay said.

Brian laughed. “Who the fuck else would we be?”

“Just that you're not spending all your time taking care of him.”

“Do you want a spreadsheet on our sex life?” he said. “Maybe you two would find it inspiring.”

“Be serious, Brian,” Lindz said.

“God, serious about what? You pulling this concerned Mom act on me about whether I'm happy? Don't I look happy?”

“He looks happy,” I said. And he did, for the record.

“This can't have been what you imagined for yourself,” Lindsay said.

I said, “Lindz, what are you doing right now?”

She sighed. “I just don't want to see him feeling obligated, or...”

Brian rolled his eyes and opened the fridge.

“Since when does Brian ever feel obligated?” I said.

“Listen to your wife,” Brian called into the fridge.

“The point of the two of them was that they didn't have to make sacrifices for each other,” Lindsay said. “No apologies, no regrets.”

“Christ, did that sound that lame when I used to say it?” Brian said. “Fuck, you have watermelon in here and you didn't serve it? No wonder this party sucked.” He took out out a container of watermelon and popped two pieces into his mouth.

I said, “That's for Gus's lunch...”

“I've been whining about wanting watermelon for hours,” Brian said. “Like five different people can tell you. Ask Marco!”

Lindsay was either completely oblivious to Brian trying to lighten the mood or just really, really determined not to let him do it, I'm not sure which. “So, what, now you'll just rearrange your life because—” 

“Nobody's rearranging anything,” Brian said, and though his voice was still light, there was a bit of an edge to it.

“You moved to New York,” Lindsay said. “Away from your son.”

“I've wanted to move to New York since I was fifteen,” he said. 

“You learned a new language for him,” she said.

He squinted at her. “Yeah, he...couldn't speak the other one anymore? What the fuck was I gonna do, keep speaking it at him anyway?”

“Of course not,” she said softly. “I'm sorry, I don't...I guess hearing his voice just made it seem more...”

Brian waved his hand and fished out another piece of watermelon. “Nope, bored, did that already, had the freak out, read the book, saw the movie. Next. Y'know, some prosciutto would go great with this. Remind me to tell Justin. How the fuck do you say prosciutto in sign language?”

I laughed a little. “You're stoned. He's stoned, Lindsay.”

“I had to get through this party somehow. Not to mention this conversation.” He sighed and came over and planted his hands on Lindsay's shoulders. “Darling. I am older and wiser now.”

“I don't know about that,” she said.

“Here's the thing about principles,” he said. “About making big statements about things you don't do. It's fucking stupid. It's some Hollywood shit. It's not how actual people live. It's not how I lived! You should be fucking thanking God for the miracle of me knowing that. I must imagine I'm less exhausting this way. And I can't keep being a precocious little tyke because it makes you feel younger too.”

Lindsay sputtered a little.

“I do things for him,” Brian said. “This isn't new. Stop being surprised. It's fucking boring.” He let go of her and backed away with a shrug. “If it's an consolation, I'm still an asshole. Now I'm just a bilingual asshole.”

“With a wedding ring,” I said, oddly enjoying this.

Brian nodded and took the container of watermelon with him out of the kitchen. “Live hard, die old, cover your corpse in jewelry!” he shouted over his shoulder.

“I don't think that's the phrase,” I mused.

Lindsay's cheeks were pink.

“You need to give it a rest,” I said.

She shook her head slowly. “Maybe I do.”

I laughed and went back to the dishes. “Y'know? I think I want to feed Brian a fish right about now.”


End file.
